


More Like a Solo

by KenRik



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Rowing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 01:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13625217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenRik/pseuds/KenRik
Summary: A series of mundane, slice of life oneshots surrounding the university life of Ben and Rey.





	More Like a Solo

Shit. He mouthed, looking down at the eco tote bag on his gloved hand. His pale face, red from the winter cold, soured; lips pursing in irk as he carefully lifted the bag to assess the full damage done. The supposedly durable bag was torn. Underneath, a piece of carrot was sticking out the bottom; as if a lewd joke he'd find funny later in the day. 

Grumbling, he figured the bag would hold until he reached his apartment. After all, the carrot stick filled the hole quite fully; thrust in deep. Face straightening, Ben shook his head; thinking there it was, that raunchy joke Phasma would laugh her indecent ass off with when he tells her. 

Settling with having a piece of vegetable sticking out of his bag as he walked, careful to keep it from touching the snow-covered pavement, his thoughts started to wander around the incident with the walk-in applicant from the other day; thinking she was rather difficult. Honestly, he was just enthusiastic to show her the ways of rowing. What was a team captain supposed to do when such raw talent was to be had? Was it his fault for wanting to build a champion rowing team? 

Maybe, his lips dipped; he came off too strong. 

Tch. He clicked his tongue. How annoying. She should be so lucky. Most of their members had been recruited from top tier schools all across Europe. Rowing, after all, was an elitist sport. Who was she to think an orphan from the south of London stood a chance against the qualified applicants vying for the two last available spots on the team. This was Oxford for crying out loud. Their rowing team was second to none! And as team captain - he'd make them reach heights never before imagined! 

Fuck. He starts to chuckle to himself. Rowing was lyf. 

Suddenly, something hits his right boot, almost making him trip over himself. With his ebony hair falling over his face, his large nose sticking out, and his expression - in aghast at the sight before him; Ben Solo froze and his brain shortcircuited where he stood. Because by his black boot was the tray of eggs he had bought, cracked and spilling out of its container; littering the white sidewalk with slimy mucks of yellow. And, eyes travelling further behind him in absolute horror, found he had been leaving a trail of groceries like fucking Hansel and Grethel. 

It took everything in him not to look around in fear of utter mortification - that everyone around had seen what was happening and didn't fucking bother to tell him. 

Retracing his steps, he picks up the fallen items and holds them in a heap between his arm and chest; and with each dip, he could feel his self-esteem drop in place of every item he took from the sidewalk. 

What a Sunday it was turning out to be, he grumbled to himself.

Finally, turning the corner; cursing himself for being so ridiculously oblivious to the gradual yet significant loss of weight in his hand; he picks up the packet of ready-to-eat cookie dough and sighs as he straightens up; just glad it was over, that there were no more telltale signs of his stupidity.

But, as fate would have it, Ben would not have his way. Never, fate decided. 

Because before him, he met the wide eyes of a rather astonished junior from his university; the same one who walked in the other day, shamelessly twarting all his advances - rather, advice. Thinking her odds were better without his help - without him. 

Then, something in him clicks. 

Brows creasing, Ben starts to think that maybe Phasma was right, maybe he did fancy the little nobody in front of him. Odd as it was.   
Maybe, his lips slightly lift; as the woman's thin brows starts creasing in turn; this would be a repeat of his parent's love story - of how a Skywalker, basically royalty, would fall in love with a nobody, basically, with the scum of the Earth. 

Mouth stretching into a small grin, he decides he rather liked the idea. Would it be his regal air that would attract her to him, he wondered in anticipation.

This would be, Ben was certain as he gazed upon the most captivating woman he has ever met, the start of something incredible. 

In front of him, his confused lowerclassman just looked utterly weirded out by the odd curve on his lips. Since she met him, he's been nothing short of creepy. She initially brushed it off as a rich-guy thing. Rich people had a weird vibe, she thought when she first entered Oxford. 

"Hey," She starts cautiously, finding the expression on his face unnerving. Lifting up her hand with an item Ben apparently missed, she nearly breaks into a grin at the sudden wash of mortification on the man's face. "You dropped your tampons." And gingerly, she carefully adds the pack into the heap in his arms before leaving, hiding her chuckles until she turned the corner. 

Utterly humiliated, Ben Solo wanted nothing more than to fall into a hole. It was then that he decides that maybe, more so than anything else - he was more Solo than Skywalker. 

Damn his father.


End file.
